


Dreamed Memory

by aunt_zelda



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Buried Alive, Dreams, Gen, Memories, Memory Loss, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: How I imagine a one-on-one scene might have gone tonight for Molly. Spoilers for episode 14.





	Dreamed Memory

**Author's Note:**

> During the episode itself I was so sure that night, Molly was gonna get some kinda one-on-one dream or flashback scene with Matt. 
> 
> So I decided to write one.

Molly lies down for sleep. 

He feels wrung dry, like a piece of cloth washed in a river and twisted up to squeeze the droplets of water out. 

Lucien. Nonagon. 

The names are meaningless to him. He tries to shove them away, out of his mind, and think of other things. Leaping out the window of a hospital. Shrieking at that spider for daring to lunge at Yasha. All of his lovely new friends on display in the bathhouse. 

He slips into dreams uneasily because he suspects what he might find lurking there. 

Logical thought fades and gives way to dreams. The bathhouse memory blurs. A dozen glowing lollipops sail through his mind. The stench of the rats fills his nostrils. Behind him, the spider chitters hungrily. 

Then … then he is in the earth again. He is so very cold. His hands are numb and caked in dirt and his own blood. He’s half crawled out of the pit, scrabbling for solid ground, for breath, for life. 

He’s dreamed this memory many times before. It’s his first memory. Well, his first proper one. The bits of too bright, too painful remembrances don’t count. How to scratch letters onto a page, how to cut meat, how to tie the laces of boots, how to wipe his arse, those are more muscle memory than anything else. 

This time he is not alone in the memory. 

There’s a man standing before him. He stands on the solid ground. His boots are shiny and black. 

Molly knows, before he raises his eyes to look, what he will see. 

He sees a familiar face. His own face, but wrong. There are no colorful tattoos, only the red eyes. His hair is cropped short and slicked back. The eyes are dark and gaunt. His clothing is black, solid black from toe to collar. 

“Fuck off.” Molly growls, continuing to crawl out of the grave. 

“You called me.” It’s his own voice sent back to him, but too high, too clipped, too wrong. 

“I did not.”

“You know my name now. Our name.”

“Yours. Not mine.” Molly heaves himself out of the earth and lays, panting, on the ground. 

“I’m you, you idiot.” The man crouches beside him. “I know you can’t remember, but you know it now.”

“Wrong.” Molly rolls over. “I know nothing. And I want nothing to do with you.”

“What frightens you the most? The idea that you were wicked, or that you were beloved?” The man chuckles. “Cree missed me. She buried me. Why did you lie to her tonight? I thought you were supposed to be a good man. Is that what good men do, lie to those that love them?”

“Go away.”

“What is it that you think we were doing out in the woods that night? What was so important that we were willing to die for it?” 

“Shut up.” Molly tries to cover his ears with his filthy, dirt caked hands. 

“This is our head. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I said SHUT UP!” Molly shrieks in Infernal. 

Molly wakes with a sore throat. Fjord is meditating with his new sword. From the looks of things, he’s been up for a while now. Molly watches the conclusion of what must be some sort of ritual. 

Fjord whispers, and the sword’s blade vanishes. Fjord whispers again, and it returns, this time encrusted with barnacles and dripping water. Seawater, from the smell of it. 

Molly sits up in bed.

Fjord turns at the noise. “Mornin’ Molly.” 

Molly grins and gets up, already planning a cheerfully sarcastic comment.


End file.
